A Delusional Thing, Called Hope
by WolvesareEmo
Summary: Hope was the only thing that was keeping him going, but he no longer hold onto it. It was snatched away by Death like numerous things in his life. 4X15 from Matt's point of view, mentions of self harm, character deaths, JeremyXMatt friendship or slash if you squint. One-shot, may be continued if requested.


**This takes place on 4X15, Stand By Me, taking from Matt's point of view. I feel that Matt is a very much neglected character similar to Bonnie. He is forgotten until proven useful. It frustrates me how little people seem to care for Matt. He is an orphan like Elena (The Golden Vagina) and has no one helping him. Remember he is the ONLY human in the cast; he has a lot of human problems that seem to be skimmed over in the show. I am hoping to address them. **

**I don't own Vampire Diaries, it belongs to the CW.**

**I appreciate any and all reviews.**

Matt looked at Jeremy, his skin lifeless and pale. His once vibrant brown eyes closed. Matt stared at him, his expression crumpling. Death, no matter how much he tried to escape it, kept finding him. Death was ruthless snatching the lives of everyone he held close. Death crushed them with his boney grip.

He thought how Death's cold grip held onto him, twice, how the cold water encased him. He sometimes missed it, the calmness he felt when he accepted it. The way how his unseen troubles and burdens slipped free of him like the oxygen from his lungs. Matt fantasized about it often, thinking how it would have been if Bonnie hadn't saved him, if Stefan hadn't saved him. He preached hope but he no longer found comfort in its delusional warmth. Matt wasn't blind, he saw the reality. He was barely scrapping by, being an employee at The Grill wasn't helping him much pay the growing debt that seem to suffocate him. He didn't speak of it; his _human _problems were insufficient in the supernatural world he was aware of.

Matt was aware about his insufficiency. Why good was he? He wasn't, his friends knew. The visits to The Grill was becoming far and between. The calls never seem to come, he was only close to Jeremy and those days were good. Jeremy was his normal, his only true friend in the chaos. Jeremy didn't forget him like the world he lived in seemed to. With Jeremy he didn't feel like a burden, a dead weight they couldn't bear to drop because of their pity for him. Matt knew his place, in the background making as little noise as possible, suffering in silence. No one noticed how much he aged, he had wrinkles and he was barely eighteen.

Matt couldn't tell that the tears became to weal in his baby blue eyes, eyes that lost their innocence, their shine. He was so used to crying he just didn't notice. The tears no longer stung like razors, like they used to. He felt his shoulders begin to shake but he kept looking at Jeremy laying down in his bed. He felt Elena's arms wrap around him but that didn't ease his pain. In fact it only caused him more; it seemed like that all Elena did. Her indecisiveness her dependence on others, and her inability to take blame is what go them there. Matt had felt indebted to her but no he felt nothing. In the pits of his heart he had felt rage, for the way she forgave the Salvatore brothers despite all they did. How she didn't change, she was still blinded by them. How she didn't grow like Caroline and mature, she just became more delusional. She never opened her eyes to see that her relationship with Damon and Stefan has brought nothing but suffering and pain not only to him but to the whole town. Dozens of people had died but she remains with them. To Matt they were the poison that infected the town, he never voiced this. He was too kind, too empathic, too tired.

Matt was tired. He was tired that Death was a shadow that hovered over the town never allowing light to foster. He was tired of working himself to the bone, dying a little every day and having no one see. He was tired of looking his back, in fear of someone stabbing him through it. He was just tired, at those moments he felt done. He wanted to push her away, scream, say she did this. Why couldn't she handle being a vampire like everyone else? Why didn't all the rules apply to her? Why did everyone have to die for her? Why couldn't she accept she was the problem? He said nothing, just continuing to cry. He let her usher him away. He left, needing to collect himself.

He went to the bathroom, quietly sobbing there. He rubbed his eyes, sure they were red, He shook his head, running his hand those his light blond hair. He blow a shaky breath, blinking. He placed his hands on his thighs. He squeezed, hissing. He knew that he shouldn't have done that. Vicky wasn't the only one self-destructive; Matt had been self-harming since her death. He just couldn't stop and no one seemed to care enough to stop himself. He dug into his jean pocket, pulling out a lighter. He twirled it in his fingers; he knew it wouldn't be wise to burn himself here. In a household of vampires, burning flesh wouldn't be hard to smell. He looked at the lighter, opening it and closing it. He just needed something to numb the pain, but he just couldn't, at least not now. He frowned,, feeling the smooth metal. He tucked the lighter back in his pocket.

He composed himself, standing. He walked in front of the mirror. He gripped the sink, looking at himself. Over the three years, he looked like he aged ten. His hair had lost some its yellowish shine, it now looked paler more silver. His skin was pale as well and lined with wrinkles. Matt looked at his eyes, seeing how much they have changed the few years. He no longer looked young; he clenched the sink tighter, his knuckles whitening. He frowned, seeing that he had grown to hate that damned reflection.

He exited the bathroom, composed. He walked up the stairs, heading towards Elena. He wanted to show her something, give her the gift of delusional hope.


End file.
